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I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.

quote by Emma Goldman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Margaret's Bridal Eve

I

The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
And which of the handsome young men shall it be?
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

My daughter, come hither, come hither to me:
There is a rose that's ready;
Come, point me your finger on him that you see:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O mother, my mother, it never can be:
There is a rose that's ready;
For I shall bring shame on the man marries me:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

Now let your tongue be deep as the sea:
There is a rose that's ready;
And the man'll jump for you, right briskly will he:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

Tall Margaret wept bitterly:
There is a rose that's ready;
And as her parent bade did she:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O the handsome young man dropped down on his knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
Pale Margaret gave him her hand, woe's me!
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

II

O mother, my mother, this thing I must say:
There is a rose in the garden;
Ere he lies on the breast where that other lay:
And the bird sings over the roses.

Now, folly, my daughter, for men are men:
There is a rose in the garden;
You marry them blindfold, I tell you again:
And the bird sings over the roses.

O mother, but when he kisses me!
There is a rose in the garden;
My child, 'tis which shall sweetest be!
And the bird sings over the roses.

O mother, but when I awake in the morn!

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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Roses In Madrid

Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!

High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!

Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!

Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Roses Are Red (Jessica)

Roses are red Violets are blue,
Honey is so sweet and so are you darling!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
You've made my dreams come true!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have my brown eyes glued on YOU!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I feel like i have known you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are so FINE that you give me the BLUES!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
Lord knows that im falling for you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I just want to Rock with you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
These lips can't wait to be kissing you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I do anything to claim you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I bow down to you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I've never met anyone as HOT as you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
never knew i would meet you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm going to bed would you like to come too!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
I rather spend my precious time with you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are beautiful as sparkling DIAMOND!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
You have me speechless everytime i talk to you!

Roses are red Violets are blue,
May i have this dance with you (JESSICA)

[...] Read more

poem by Obi Onyenwe
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Lancelot And Elaine

Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning's earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh;
That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;
That at Caerleon; this at Camelot:
And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there!
And here a thrust that might have killed, but God
Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,
And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.

How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.

For Arthur, long before they crowned him King,
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain side:
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together; but their names were lost;
And each had slain his brother at a blow;
And down they fell and made the glen abhorred:
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached,
And lichened into colour with the crags:
And he, that once was king, had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass,
All in a misty moonshine, unawares

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Diamonds and Rust

I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again
but that's not unusual
it's just that the moon is full
and you decided to come
And here I sit, hand on the telephone
hearing the voice I'd known
a couple of light years ago
headed straight for a fall
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
Now I see you standing with brown leaves all around and snow in your hair
Now we're smiling out the window of the crummy hotel over washington square
and then comes that white clouds, mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
we both could've died then and there
Now you're telling me you're not nostalgic
then give me another word for it
you were so good with words
and at keeping things paid
cause I need some of that vagueness now, it's all come back too clearly
yes, I love you dearly
and if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid
But we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
yes we both know what memories can bring
they bring Diamonds and Rust
Diamonds, Diamonds and Rust
Diamonds, Diamonds and Rust
Diamonds, Diamonds and Rust
Diamonds, Diamonds and Rust

song performed by Judas Priest, music by Judas Priest, lyrics by Joan Baez
Added by Lucian Velea
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Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes

(a-wa) o kodwa u zo-nge li-sa namhlange
(a-wa a-wa) si-bona kwenze ka kanjani
(a-wa a-wa) amanto mbazane ayeza
Shes a rich girl
She dont try to hide it
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Hes a poor boy
Empty as a pocket
Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose
Sing ta na na
Ta na na na
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
People say shes crazy
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Well thats one way to lose these
Walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She was physically forgotten
Then she slipped into my pocket
With my car keys
She said youve taken me for granted
Because I please you
Wearing these diamonds
And I could say oo oo oo
As if everybody knows
What Im talking about
As if everybody would know
Exactly what I was talking about
Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She makes the sign of a teaspoon
He makes the sign of a wave
The poor boy changes clothes
And puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes
And she said honey take me dancing
But they ended up by sleeping
In a doorway
By the bodegas and the lights on
Upper broadway
Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes
And I could say oo oo oo
As if everybody here would know
What I was talking about
I mean everybody here would know exactly
What I was talking about
Talking about diamonds
People say Im crazy

[...] Read more

song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Malmaison

I

How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there,
beyond the high wall! How quietly the Seine runs in loops and windings,
over there, over there, sliding through the green countryside! Like ships
of the line, stately with canvas, the tall clouds pass along the sky,
over the glittering roof, over the trees, over the looped and curving river.
A breeze quivers through the linden-trees. Roses bloom at Malmaison.
Roses! Roses! But the road is dusty. Already the Citoyenne Beauharnais
wearies of her walk. Her skin is chalked and powdered with dust,
she smells dust, and behind the wall are roses! Roses with
smooth open petals, poised above rippling leaves . . . Roses . . .
They have told her so. The Citoyenne Beauharnais shrugs her shoulders
and makes a little face. She must mend her pace if she would be back
in time for dinner. Roses indeed! The guillotine more likely.

The tiered clouds float over Malmaison, and the slate roof sparkles
in the sun.

II

Gallop! Gallop! The General brooks no delay. Make way, good people,
and scatter out of his path, you, and your hens, and your dogs,
and your children. The General is returned from Egypt, and is come
in a `caleche' and four to visit his new property. Throw open the gates,
you, Porter of Malmaison. Pull off your cap, my man, this is your master,
the husband of Madame. Faster! Faster! A jerk and a jingle
and they are arrived, he and she. Madame has red eyes. Fie! It is for joy
at her husband's return. Learn your place, Porter. A gentleman here
for two months? Fie! Fie, then! Since when have you taken to gossiping.
Madame may have a brother, I suppose. That -- all green, and red,
and glitter, with flesh as dark as ebony -- that is a slave; a bloodthirsty,
stabbing, slashing heathen, come from the hot countries to cure your tongue
of idle whispering.

A fine afternoon it is, with tall bright clouds sailing over the trees.

'Bonaparte, mon ami, the trees are golden like my star, the star I pinned
to your destiny when I married you. The gypsy, you remember her prophecy!
My dear friend, not here, the servants are watching; send them away,
and that flashing splendour, Roustan. Superb -- Imperial, but . . .
My dear, your arm is trembling; I faint to feel it touching me! No, no,
Bonaparte, not that -- spare me that -- did we not bury that last night!
You hurt me, my friend, you are so hot and strong. Not long, Dear,
no, thank God, not long.'

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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Kiss Me On My Neck

I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
Been such a long time
I forgot that I was fine
Just kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want too feel me baby
Better be divine
Bring me water for these flowers
Growing out my mind
Give me nothin' just be gentle
Breathe love in my air
Use me, don't abuse me, love me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air

[...] Read more

song performed by Erykah Badu
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kiss Me On My Neck (Hesi)

I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
Been such a long time
I forgot that I was fine
Just kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want too feel me baby
Better be divine
Bring me water for these flowers
Growing out my mind
Give me nothin' just be gentle
Breathe love in my air
Use me, don't abuse me, love me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don't abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare
If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air

[...] Read more

song performed by Erykah Badu
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Diamonds Are A Girls Best Friend

(leo robin/jule styne)
A kiss on the hand may be quite continental
But diamonds are a girls best friend
A kiss may be grand but it wont pay the rental
On your humble flat or help you at the automat
Men grow cold as girls grow old
We all lose our charm in the end
But square cut or pear shape
These rocks dont lose their shape
Diamonds are a girls best friend
Yeah diamonds are a girls best friend
Lets rock
There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer
Diamonds are a girls best friend
There may come a time when a hardboiled employer
Thinks youre awful nice, but get that ice or else no dice
Hes your guy when stocks are high
But beware when they start to descend
Its then that those spouses
And diamonds are a girls best friend
Diamonds are a girls best friend
Yeah diamonds are a girls best friend
Lets rock again
Diamonds are a girls best friend
Diamonds are a girls best friend
Diamonds are a girls best friend
Diamonds are a girls best friend

song performed by Emmylou Harris
Added by Lucian Velea
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Roses Are Red Violets Are Blue

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
I've never found someone as patient
As you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you get lost
Then I'll look for you

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
You know I'm always sorry
When I hurt you

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
If I could 
Id turn back to when i first kissed you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you don't believe me
Then what else can I do 

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
Baby no one knows me 
As much as you

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
Believe I'll do anything
To get next to you

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
Tell me you still love me 
And I'll run to you 

Roses are red 
Violets are blue
You might not know
But I love you 

Roses are red
Violets are blue
The stars shine bright
But not as bright as you do 

[...] Read more

poem by Jennifer Alejandra
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Up To My Neck In You

Well Ive been up to my neck in trouble
Up to my neck in strife
Up to my neck in misery
For most of my life
Ive been a fool
And you know what a fool can do
Im telling you
You came along when I needed you
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
And Ive been up to my neck in pleasure
Up to my neck in pain
Ive been up to my neck on the railroad track
Waitin for the train
To cruise on through
Well baby my time is due
Oh its way overdue
You came along and you pulled me through
Now Im up, up to my neck in you
Well Ive been up to my neck in whiskey
Ive been up to my neck in wine
Ive been up to my neck in wishing
That this neck wasnt mine
I was a loser
You werent lost
Baby you were too good, too good to be true
What youve got no one else could do
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
Yeah you came along when I needed you
Oh Im up to my neck in you

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead.
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
"Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize."

To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."

"Would rather you had let them fall," she cried,
"Plunge and be lost--ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!--ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given--
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river--that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Last Tournament

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, `Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutched at the crag, and started through mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarred from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
`Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'

To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'

`Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried,
`Plunge and be lost-ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!-ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given-
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river-that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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It Must Have Been The Roses

Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blood Red Roses

Heavens above
What on earth has this come to
What have I done
What can I do now to show you
Theres still a chance
If youre ready to make up
Its not too late
cause Im not ready to break up
I try to call
But you dont hear at all
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Is tearing me apart
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
Youve got to understand
Thats my heart in your hand
Dont walk away
We can get this heart mended
Or am I the fool
And has this love just ended
I tried to call
But you dont hear at all
I gotta keep on trying
To stop this love from dying
Youve got to understand
That my heart is in your hand
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Is tearing me apart
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Tears me apart
Roses - blood red roses
Youve got to understand
Thats my heart in your hand
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
cause this burning in my heart
Tears me apart

song performed by Uriah Heep
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Vows Of A Rose

(her) Roses so red,
Roses be said,
To the soul and to the heart,
Shall you always bleed from thy dart.

(they) Roses be true roses be said,
Through eternal life shall you be lead
To the body to the mind
Eternity is so kind

(him) Roses so red,
Roses be said
To the old, to the youth
May you always know the truth

(they) Roses be true roses be said,
Through eternal life shall you be lead
To the body to the mind
Eternity is so kind

(her) Roses so red,
Roses be said,
Love shall never be new
For this I already knew

(they) Roses be true roses be said,
Through eternal life shall you be lead
To the body to the mind
Eternity is so kind

(him) Roses so red,
Roses be said,
To the soul and to the heart
Shall you always bleed from my dart.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Path Of Roses

path of roses

i took the path full of roses
endured the love of roses
to strain my emotion
and torture my innocence
smiled with me in roses
yet to pain me with roses

left alone by the roses
discovered on the roses
climb me an emotion of roses
and lend me a rose of roses
to torture my innocence
and surely strain my emotion
to endure the love of roses
in this path full of roses

i hope we can cross this
out and cut the roses
and trade to the far east
if you want it…
it is a path of so many roses
in variety and kind, of roses
-

contributory poem by: onalethuso petruss ntema
©opn27042012/0947
inspired by: gomotsegang sebadieta's life is a rose and ode to my mother mrs. sebadieta (2012)
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(r) ntema's unique poetry (nup)
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poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Roman Rose-Seller

Not from Paestum come my roses; Patrons, see
My flowers are Roman-blown; their nectaries
Drop honey amber, and their petals throw
Rich crimsons on the lucent marble of the shrine
Where snowy Dian lifts her pallid brow,
As crimson lips of Love may seek to warm
A sister glow in hearts as pulseless hewn.
Caesar from Afric wars returns to-day;
Patricians, buy my royal roses; strew
His way knee-deep, as though old Tiber roll'd
A tide of musky roses from his bed to do
A wonder, wond'rous homage. Marcus Lucius, thou
To-day dost wed; buy roses, roses, roses,
To mingle with the nuptial myrtle; look,
I strip the polish'd thorns from the stems,
The nuptial rose should be a stingless flower;
Lucania, pass not by my roses. Virginia,
Here is a rose that has a canker in't, and yet
It is most glorious-dyed and sweeter smells
Than those death hath not touched. To-day they bear
The shield of Claudius with his spear upon it,
Close upon Caesar's chariot--heap, heap it up
With roses such as these; 'tis true he's dead
And there's the canker! but, Romans, he
Died glorious, there's the perfume! and his virtues
Are these bright petals; so buy my roses, Widow.
No Greek-born roses mine. Priestess, priestess!
Thy ivory chariot stay; here's a rose and not
A white one, though thy chaste hands attend
On Vesta's flame. Love's of a colour--be it that
Which ladders Heaven and lives amongst the Gods;
Or like the Daffodil blows all about the earth;
Or, Hesperus like, is one sole star upon
The solemn sky which bridges same sad life,
So here's a crimson rose: Be, thou as pure
As Dian's tears iced on her silver cheek,
And know no quality of love, thou art
A sorrow to the Gods! Oh mighty Love!
I would my roses could but chorus Thee.
No roses of Persepolis are mine. Helot, here--
I give thee this last blossom: A bee as red
As Hybla's golden toilers sucked its sweets;
A butterfly, wing'd like to Eros nipp'd
Its new-pinked leaves; the sun, bright despot, stole
The dew night gives to all. Poor slave, methinks
A bough of cypress were as gay a gift, and yet
It hath some beauty left! a little scarlet--for
The Gods love all; a little perfume, for there is no life,
Poor slave, but hath its sweetness. Thus I make
My roses Oracles. O hark! the cymbals beat

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poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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